]]>http://jlennidornerblog.what-are-they.com/2018/09/17/goals-for-the-exciting-readathon-i-love-tackletbr-plus-an-atozchallenge-update/feed/24570#AtoZChallenge 2018 Reflections and suchhttp://jlennidornerblog.what-are-they.com/2018/05/13/atozchallenge-2018-reflections-and-such/
http://jlennidornerblog.what-are-they.com/2018/05/13/atozchallenge-2018-reflections-and-such/#commentsSun, 13 May 2018 21:31:05 +0000http://jlennidornerblog.what-are-they.com/?p=427926 parts of a Speculative Fiction story by J Lenni Dorner Reflections I’m so grateful the 2018 blogging from A to Z Challenge happened. I’m thankful to have been such a huge part of it, taking on the role of team captain. Next year will be the TENTH ANNIVERSARY. That’s incredibly exciting. There were a …

Reflections

I’m so grateful the 2018 blogging from A to Z Challenge happened. I’m thankful to have been such a huge part of it, taking on the role of team captain. Next year will be the TENTH ANNIVERSARY. That’s incredibly exciting.

There were a LOT of bumps along the way. Our website went down for a few months before the challenge, and it was a bear of a time getting the domain back. Then Twitter chucked us out, and a newsbot took over the feed. Facebook changed the algorithm and rules, so it was hard to reach out to folks there. I won’t even get into the madness that is Google Plus. And we had to figure out a way to make a list because we lost hundreds of people trying the comment-link-only method in 2017.

But you know what? We did it. The team pulled together. Jayden joined in and worked magic with the Google Forms and Sheets. John busted his hump attacking technical problems like he was Neo flying around the Matrix. Zalka Csenge got her groove on handling things left and right. Jeremy brought not one, but TWO, logos to the table. Arlee put out the fires that kept cropping up. And I rallied time and again to keep the trains on time (even when Blogger switched our freaking timezone location).

Running a blog hop of this magnitude isn’t easy. There’s a reason we need a whole team. Honestly, we should have one more person exclusively to handle the social media sites. But every May I reflect back and realize I’m grateful to have been a part of it. This hop is something special. It’s about making a cyber community. Taking all these people with different interests and viewpoints and bringing them together with a common goal. It’s giving people a support system where one wouldn’t naturally exist. A blog is just you and your computer shouting to the world, hoping to be noticed, perhaps wanting not to be forgotten or overlooked, maybe to make a difference. Blog hops provide an audience. This is the basis of friendship, for those looking for such a relationship. It’s the, “hey, I know that person!” of our online world. The #AtoZChallenge is something special.

As for reflecting on the last twelve weeks of my life…

There were complications at my day job that sent me into an emotional spiral. My book tour didn’t yield the hoped-for results. My spouse was sick enough to require an emergency room visit. Then I fell ill. Twitter locked me out after someone hacked my account. My assistant/ cousin-in-law was hospitalized for several days. A story I wrote didn’t make it into a writing competition final. (It’s about a society where elders trade their “golden years” to work for medical care for their grandchildren. There are a few places they train for new jobs. One of these places has them wear special suits when they go through portals to other worlds. One world is called Earth, and the primary target inhabitants look a lot like them. The first missions are simple, just taking a sock or a food storage lid. But an elite few are chosen to abduct people from Earth. Most of the abducted survive and are returned. But there’s something about the task that has driven many who do it to madness– one famously so. For the main character, it’s a chance to save his family from poverty and death, but something could change this grandfather’s mind. Maybe I’ll self-publish it.) Also I turned myself into an outcast at a co-workers cookout party. (Tip: If you volunteer to bring food to a party in the American suburbs, get it at a grocery store. People freak out if they can still see “animal” with their meat. And if you normally collect firewood to cook over, those fancy grills are a trap– it’s indoor cooking that has been safely moved outside. Trust me on that. Also, don’t invite me to a cookout, or to go “glamping.”)

I’ve fallen behind on much of my computer/ electronic activities, duties, and responsibilities because I went off to the woods several times in May in search of respite. (I’d be out there right now if the rain hadn’t freaked my Snookums out. One ER trip was enough for my other half, so I agreed to pack it in and come back to “civilization.”)

“Attie, we have to go.” Jenesis holds my face in her hands. They’re slippery.

“Your palms are sweating.”

She gives me a sympathetic look. It’s not right; sympathy looks wrong on her. “It’s not sweat, is it?”

Her thumbs rub my cheeks. She kisses my forehead. “You have to help me. We need to go. I know how to read the panel, but I don’t know what to press or turn.”

“Neither do I.” I wipe my nose on my sleeve. Ximena is blindfolded, so she doesn’t yell at me about it. But she’s not my Ximena. Maybe this one wouldn’t yell at me for using my sleeve as a tissue. Or maybe I’d get a pass, given what I just witnessed.

Jenesis leads me to the panel. I have no idea what to do there. How did Sammy know?

“Do we tell them?” I ask Jenesis so quietly that I have to repeat the question for her to hear it.

She looks at Ximena, Quinn, and Teressa before answering me. “No. We need them calm while we escape.”

I look from my blindfolded family to Brydanz. He’s still struggling against my acid-soaked uniform. I march over and pull it from his head, wrapping it instead around his throat.

Brydanz gasps and pleads. Layers of his face have melted off. He can’t produce his hideous grin like this.

“Let me go. I’ll activate the portal, I’ll send you to Earth,” he gasps between each word.

“Not good enough. I need to know that you won’t come back. No one else from Earth will ever be abducted. The connection to Phaeton has to be cut.”

He pulls something from his pocket. “Please, Great Fighter. Spare me. Take this and, once you reach your world, use it to destroy the portal.”

I take the green key. I’d seen him use it the night he took me. “You used that on the lock on the chains. I remember wondering why the door was chained shut, especially if there were people inside.”

“Turn once to unlock the chains, twice to lock them, thrice to destroy the portal. You need a Phaeton touch. Jenesis can do it.”

I tug on my uniform around his neck, pulling him to his feet. “I can use you to do it.”

“Someone must stay to operate the portal.” He points to Jenesis. “She knows this.”

I look to her. She shuts her eyes.

“My father was a coward. He left me here.”

I shake my head. “What? I thought you didn’t know how to operate the panel?”

She rubs her upper arms. “You should leave me, Master Attie of Earth. Samuel was going to sacrifice himself. He was going to stay behind.”

“Dad?” Quinn calls out. “You have to come with us, Dad!”

I curse under my breath. “No one is getting left behind. Be quiet, Quinn.”

Teressa cries. Ximena moves closer to her, working against the restraints to comfort her child. The room not only stinks, but it’s filled with negative energy. This is a place of horrors.

“You should leave me. I planned to leave you.” Jenesis falls to her knees and presses her forehead to the floor.

“Get up,” I command. “You were desperate to be free. I cannot fault you for that.”

I pull on my uniform, forcing Brydanz toward the panel. “Open the portal.”

He turns a dial and holds it in place. A round, swirling door of silver and light appears.

“How do I know that leads to Earth?” If I were him, I’d send us to a world without atmosphere. We’d be dead in seconds.

“I’ll go,” Ximena says.

“What?” I turn toward her, yanking hard on Brydanz’s leash. The portal fades in and out as his grip on the dial loosens.

“I will not lose a father of my children. Nor will I allow someone who has never been to Earth to go first and report back with a guess.”

By the way she’s phrased it, the shake in her voice, I can tell she knows that Sammy is gone.

“Jenesis, help Ximena out of the blindfold and binds.” I tighten my uniform around Brydanz’s neck and lean toward his left ear. “She will cross to Earth, then report back that it’s the correct location. She will be unharmed. Anything else, any harm, and you’ll quickly discover that you were right to abduct me. Samuel was trained by me. Ximena will return, or I you will witness firsthand what an unstoppable champion I would have been. My loss record is zero. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Great Fighter.”

Arms wrap around me. I turn from Brydanz to see Ximena. Tears flow from her eyes. I kiss her cheeks.

“Sam?” She mouths.

I shake my head. “Yellow blobs,” I whisper in her ear.

Her chin quakes as she nods. She takes my face in her hands. “I will be right back. Keep the children safe.”

I shake my head.

“Say it, Attie.”

“Quinn and Teressa will be safe.”

I give a tug as I address Brydanz, “Ximena is going. Does she need anything to get back?”

“Not while I hold this open, Great Fighter. If you give her the key, she could lock it or destroy it. There’s no need to unlock it while it is open.”

I watch my wife, no, not my wife, the alternate Earth version of my wife. She kisses the children and tells them not fear, that she’ll be right back. Then she backs into the portal.

The silver and light swirls round and round as we wait. I can’t look away. Once again, I find myself hating that I don’t have a way to tell time here.

“I left my jacket,” I mutter.

“Will you require me to go retrieve it, Master?”

“Stop calling me that.” I shake my head. “No. I suppose I’ll buy another one. It’s just that it has my wallet, which would be useful. My phone would be good, too, but that’s been dead since I got here, and I wasn’t carrying a charger.”

How many times did I yell at Mystic and Darcy for not carrying a charger? Or Daunte. We fought over that the night I left, didn’t we? Such a foolish thing. I’ve killed beings here without knowing their name or gender.

“Take the children and Jenesis. Go. I’ll be right behind you.” I kiss the top of her head.

I wait until they are gone.

“We know where Phaeton is. I will tell my people, my government, what you are doing here. I suggest you find some other world.”

Despite the lack of flesh, I swear I see Brydanz grin. “Yes, Great Fighter. Thank you for sparing my life.”

I walk backward through the portal, watching him. And then it’s dark. Someone taps my shoulder.

“Come, we must lock the portal.” Jenesis takes my arm. The sun is rising outside. I’ll be with my children soon.

Ximena in kneeling on the ground, tending to her twins. I still don’t know how we’ll explain anything. One step at a time.

I lift the chains on the door handle, putting the lock in place. “One,” I count aloud as I turn the key.
“Two,” I shouldn’t destroy the portal. I should get the government to launch nuclear weapons into it. How long would it take to convince them? I was there and I barely believe it. Phaeton could send others to attack. How many like Myndi exist?

“Three.”

The lock, key, and chains all turn to dust. The five us head to the sidewalk. Ximena carries Teressa, and I carry Quinn. They won’t stop crying. They don’t understand why Sammy isn’t with us. I know how they feel.

A pick-up slows for a moment as it goes by. A man in the back chucks a pile of newspapers onto the sidewalk.

“The date!” I run toward the stack. How long was I gone? Days, weeks, months… years?

I stop dead in my tracks as I stare at the cover.

“What? What’s wrong?” Ximena looks at the paper.

“The Philadelphia Inquirer?”

Ximena tilts her head. “Yeah?”

“It’s not the Globe.” My eyes widen, unable to look away.

“Attie, what are you talking about? It’s the Boston Globe and the Philadelphia Inquirer. Always has been. What’s wrong with you?”

We’re on her Earth, not mine.

Here, all of my children are dead. On this version of Earth, Phaeton isn’t a planet; it’s an asteroid belt.

I stare at my dust-covered hands. Brydanz won.

I hope you enjoyed the month-long story. Please let me know if you think I should publish it as a free ebook novella as is, or just leave it as blog posts. (Or other ideas.)

Two stories (under 500 words) face off. You, the reader, decide which author is worthy of moving one step closer to a prize. Voting there is a good deed for the day! Please take the time to make a real difference. Please go to dlhammons.com to vote. Thank you.

]]>http://jlennidornerblog.what-are-they.com/2018/04/30/z-atozchallenge-zero-fiction-sff/feed/74272Y #AtoZChallenge Yellow Blobs #Fiction #SFFhttp://jlennidornerblog.what-are-they.com/2018/04/28/y-atozchallenge-yellow-blobs-fiction-sff/
http://jlennidornerblog.what-are-they.com/2018/04/28/y-atozchallenge-yellow-blobs-fiction-sff/#commentsSat, 28 Apr 2018 23:38:51 +0000http://jlennidornerblog.what-are-they.com/?p=427026 parts of a Speculative Fiction story by J Lenni Dorner “Technically, she’s a widow. On her world, you and her four children all died. She practically jumped at the chance to be abducted. Phaeton isn’t a planet there. It’s an asteroid belt, not one more dot in the night sky. Granted, they lied to …

“Technically, she’s a widow. On her world, you and her four children all died. She practically jumped at the chance to be abducted. Phaeton isn’t a planet there. It’s an asteroid belt, not one more dot in the night sky. Granted, they lied to her about the life she’d have here. But she was so depressed when I met her that she didn’t have a mind to care.”

I hear Samuel’s words. They flow over me like a babbling brook. “She’s alive. I’ll see her again.”

I bury my head on Jenesis’s shoulder. “How will I explain to my children that their mother is alive and with their uncle?”

“Really?” Samuel kicks the table. “I have to tell the mother of my children that her alternate Earth husband is alive and wants to take our family to his world. And, oh yeah, that you’re bringing another woman.”

I look up. “I’m not having an affair with Jenesis!”

“You’re not sleeping with your trophy?”

“No.”

Samuel huffs as he crosses his arms. “Always have to one-up me. Look, we’ll figure the complicated stuff out later. We have to go before you have another fight. They don’t know enough about humans to pick proper opponents for our kind. But, eventually, you could meet one who is impossible to defeat.”

He snarls as he uncrosses his arms. “I got lucky. This Ximena is a trauma surgeon instead of a financial adviser.”

I shrug. “Jenesis has healing worms.”

“Art, I’m not going to argue who has the better trophy. Just meet us at the room with Green Portal B in ten minutes.”

“I don’t know where that is, I’m not allowed to leave this room, and I have no way to measure time!”

Samuel presses the palm of his hand to his face. “How many times did Dad tell you to wear a watch? Not that it’s accurate for measuring time here, but you and I could agree on the quantity. It doesn’t matter. I’ll come back for you. Won’t look at all suspicious, walking around with a bunch of trophies and another fighter.” He mutters his sarcastic last line as he walks out.

~~~

“The room where Green Portal B is located is on the left after this tunnel,” Sammy says.

Our group moves in a line, him at the front and me in the back. Both women and the children have been blindfolded and tied with a glowing, blue rope. Sammy tells anyone who asks that he’s teaching a lesson. Then he cracks his knuckles and chuckles. Being a champion, no one has bothered to argue with him.

“Does Brydanz live down that way?” I ask.

“What? No. You weren’t serious about taking him with us, were you?” Sammy replies.

“He’s the best way to clear your name.”

“We’ll think of something else, Attie. This is dangerous enough.” He motions to the four people with us.

The Green Portal B room stinks like rotting fish steaming on a sewer grate. I hurl, much to everyone’s annoyance. It does not freshen the air.

“There’s a control panel over here, but I can’t read it,” Sammy says.

“May I try?” Jenesis asks.

I free her from the blindfold and restraints. She and Sammy work together. I stand behind Ximena, smelling her hair. She doesn’t have the same scent as my wife. I see her shiver, the way my wife always did when I stood behind her like this. She’d shiver, then I’d wrap my arms around her, and she’d lean into me. Mercedes was conceived after such an encounter.

This Ximena hasn’t seen me yet. She doesn’t know it’s me standing behind her. I shut my eyes. What will it be like to see her in my brother’s arms?

“He is not your trophy. Neither are those two. You are not in charge of what happens to them.” I can’t see his face, but I know Brydanz has that despicable grin growing across it.

Two yellow blobs slide into the room. “We have runners. Sound the alarm,” Brydanz orders.

Samuel’s fist connects with our abductor’s head. Brydanz releases me. He shoves Sammy into one of the red blobs. Jenesis screams as she rushes over, kicking Brydanz hard behind his knees. As soon as he’s on the ground, I pull out my costume and wrap it around his head. Muffled cries come from under the cloth. He tries to pull it off, but his fingers can’t hold it. The acid works.

“Everything is going to be okay,” I say to Ximena and the children. They’re crying; no doubt scared of what they can’t see.

“Attie? By the stars, I’m dead!”

Crap. “You’re not dead. Just calm down. I’ll explain soon.”

“I know my own husband’s voice. I’m dead. I couldn’t hear you if I weren’t.”

The children cry harder. “Ximena, stop saying you’re dead. It’s upsetting your offspring. Jenesis, finish activating the portal so we can get out of here. Sammy, stop playing with the red blob.”

Jenesis takes my hand. “He can’t.”

“What?” I look at her.

The yellow blobs slide toward the door, one with my brother trapped inside.

“He’s gone. Those are body disposers.”

“Sammy isn’t gone. He’s right there. I can see him.” His hands and feet are difficult to make out, but he’s still there. I reach out, but Jenesis stops me.

“It’s not something you can argue with, or something you can fight. They’re part of the planet. It’s why the arena is here. On your world, bodies are buried or burned. On Phaeton, remains are absorbed by those.”

“No.” I try to break her hold. “No!”

I watch as the yellow blobs leave the room. Sammy is just a torso, neck, and head. He looks angry, ready for a fight. The blobs slide to the fork in the tunnel. As they turn, my brother vanishes.

Cemetery, mausoleum, bio urn, cremation… what Earthly way do you prefer?

Two stories (under 500 words) face off. You, the reader, decide which author is worthy of moving one step closer to a prize. use your vote there for National Pay It Forward Day! Please go to dlhammons.com to vote. Thank you.

“I’m not fighting my own brother to the death! Jenesis, clothing.” I bark the order. As soon as her shaking fingers peel my uniform from my torso, I apologize to her.

A small group of aliens walks in, hauling my victory table. They arrange the victory feast quickly, and leave moments later.

Samuel pulls a picture out from his pocket. “Look at them, Attie. You have to get back to there.”

I stare at the picture from our parents’ forty-fifth-anniversary party. Fake sapphires adorn all thirteen children they’ve had, the ten spouses their children married, and the twenty-two grandchildren they have.

“One for every year.” He says.

I glare at him. “Four less on Earth right now.”

“That’s why you have to do it. You could take Quinn, Teressa, Jenesis, and one of my bonus trophies. The five of you could get through the portal.”

I lift my legs, one at a time, as Jenesis finishes taking my costume off and putting my other clothing on me. “You could take us to the portal. Together, no one can stop us. Jenesis said that was how her father left. He just went, and no one could stop him.”

“Go back to Earth to be convicted of vehicular manslaughter?”

“We’ll blame Brydanz. He was the passenger, wasn’t he? That’s how you both vanished after it happened.”

Samuel grabs my shoulders. “How would we prove he exists? It’s going to be hard enough to explain who are trophies and my children are. Think, Attie, think!”

“We take him.”

“Abduct Brydanz? Do you not understand his powers?”

I grip my brother’s arms. “Sammy, I just ripped a giant flower apart. I kicked a bull-like creature in the gonads. And I’ve ripped a clawless lobster to pieces. I don’t understand anything that happens on Phaeton. But I know I’m not leaving you here to die. And I’m damn sure not killing you. So yes, we abduct the monster that abducted us. We’ll throw my acid-covered uniform over his stupid face, grab our people, and get the hell out of Dodge.”

“Because we’re not in Kansas anymore?” He smiles at me.

“Precisely. Come, let’s have something to eat.”

We sing terrible songs as we sit around the table enjoying the victory feast. It feels like old times. There’s no alcohol to drink, yet we sound like a couple of drunks. Dad would say that we’re living up to our Irish cliche.

“I need to get my daughter and the trophy I’m taking with us,” Samuel says as he rises and pats his stomach.

“Does the trophy have a name?” I smile.

“She does. Brydanz didn’t bring her here. She’s from another Earth.”

I nod. “Okay. But on that Earth, people have names, right?”

“Yeah. They abduct fighters from our Earth, they abduct trophies from the Earth in the next dimension. I’ve debated, since the moment I met her if I should try to take her to our world. It wasn’t until you arrived that I knew for sure.”

I raise my eyebrow. “What do I have to do with that decision?”

“When Brydanz and I left, I didn’t know the outcome of the crash. He told my sister-in-law and nephew were… you know.”

“Killed,” I supply as I cross my arms over my chest.

“Yes.” Sammy looks at the floor. Quinn slurps a blue noodle into his mouth and then belches. In unison, Samuel and I tell him to excuse himself.

“Still not hearing what this has to do with your decision to free a slave.”

“She’s a trophy, not a slave.”

I shake my head. “It’s a prettier word, but the meaning is the same.”

He rubs his hands over his face, stretching and mashing the skin. “I can’t call her a slave. I can’t bear for you to believe that I think of her that way. I’ve protected her since the day I won her. We’ve laughed together, cried together, and yes, I’m ashamed to admit to you, we fell in love. And the punishment for that was our two beautiful children who were marked for the trophy life as soon as they were born. I should have taken her from this world before she gave birth.”

“So why didn’t you?”

“Because I cannot go to her world. There’s already a Samuel Connolly there. And I didn’t know if she was on our world. But I do now. You told me as much.”

“What are you talking about?” I rise from the table.

“It’s Ximena.”

“My wife?” My legs turn to gel. I fall back to where I was sitting.

Ximena was the first character I named when I wrote this story. I knew right away that her name would first be mentioned in the X post. How did you come up with your X post?

Two stories (under 500 words) face off. You, the reader, decide which author is worthy of moving one step closer to a prize. Voting there is a good deed for the day! Please take the time to make a real difference. Please go to dlhammons.com to vote. Thank you.

]]>http://jlennidornerblog.what-are-they.com/2018/04/27/x-atozchallenge-ximena-fiction-sff/feed/44268W #AtoZChallenge Winner #Fiction #SFFhttp://jlennidornerblog.what-are-they.com/2018/04/25/w-atozchallenge-winner-fiction-sff/
http://jlennidornerblog.what-are-they.com/2018/04/25/w-atozchallenge-winner-fiction-sff/#commentsThu, 26 Apr 2018 00:02:01 +0000http://jlennidornerblog.what-are-they.com/?p=426326 parts of a Speculative Fiction story by J Lenni Dorner Samuel and I look at Quinn, who is curled up in Jenesis’s arms. “You can’t lose. I’ll offer to take your place in the next battle.” “And when Myndi makes that same offer over and over again? How long until I have to face …

“And when Myndi makes that same offer over and over again? How long until I have to face her?”

Chimes sound in the distance. Jenesis lets go of Quinn and heads to the closet.

“You need to prepare,” Samuel says as he takes a step backward, toward the door.

“I need answers. I need to know what really happened that day.”

“Fight first. Focus on winning. Keep Quinn safe.”

Jenesis kneels before me, tapping my leg in an effort to get my attention. I know she wants me to slip into my fighting costume. But I need to know.

“Tell me. Should I hate my own brother? Or is it the face of Brydanz I should picture when I step into the ring next?”

He looks at Quinn. “Attie, please. There’s more to it.”

“Tell me.”

“Or what? You’ll throw the fight? Look at Quinn! Really look at him, Art.” Samuel heads to the door. “I’ll be back after the fight.”

“Even if I am not the winner?”

He hangs his head. “Yeah. Even if I have to come back to say goodbye to another child.”

~~~

My opponent looks like a yellow flower. A yellow flower half the size of the Bunker Hill Monument. Every blow I deliver results in my being showered with liquid. It feels like lemon juice, acidic enough to be annoying but not enough to do real damage, so long as I keep my eyes protected. I worry because it just stands there, letting me beat on it, not fighting back. Is there a killing blow coming? Do I just keep hitting until I die of exhaustion?

“Worst. Opponent. Ever.” I give it a hard kick. My foot slides into the stem. I jump up and kick with the other. That foot eases in. I grin as I kick-climb my way up.

I grab another petal. “She loves me not,” I laugh as I tug. The petal, my opponent, and I all fall to the arena floor.

~~~

“You won?” Samuel asks as I’m escorted back to my chamber.

“Yes. I ripped a giant flower apart. I’d love a shower.”

“It’s not a flower. That acid kills other species. You shouldn’t clean your uniform. Quinn, come over here and hug your Uncle Attie.”

Quinn runs over and wraps himself around my leg. I tilt my head as I stare at Samuel.

“Myndi can’t go near that acid.”

“Maybe I should challenge her now, while I’m fresh off my win and covered in the stuff.”

Samuel shakes his head. “No. There are other ways she could kill you without getting near you. I’m the one you’re going to have to fight. It’s my place that you’re must take. That’s how you’ll get off this world.”

Have you ever pulled petals from a flower while playing the fortune-telling game?

Two stories (under 500 words) face off. You, the reader, decide which author is worthy of moving one step closer to a prize. Voting there is a good deed for the day! Please take the time to make a real difference. Please go to dlhammons.com to vote. Thank you.

I slam my fist against the wall. Stupid, soft wall. The collision makes no sound. None of my fury is exchanged for pain. Worthless room.

“Attie?” Jenesis touches the back of my neck, stroking it softly. “You should ask to be alone. There will likely be another fight soon. I’m sure you want to prepare.”

“I have to know,” I say between gritted teeth.

Jenesis moves between Samuel and I. She kneels down and bows her head.

“Please, great champion, my fighter has a question. Take your anger, sorrow, and pain out on my flesh, but please answer him.”

“What?” I shake my head. “Jenesis, I don’t want that. This is between my brother and me.”

She doesn’t move. Quinn cries. It’s the loud sob of a scared child, a cry that is meant to bring any parent running. Two green blobs the size of manatees slither in. Myndi enters behind them.

“Quinn, come here,” I say as I look between the boy and the champion who would eat him. “Now.”

He sniffles and wipes his tears. He chokes on his cries as he plods toward me. Samuel reaches out. I shake my head.

“Myndi, how grand to see you again.” I say the words as loud and clear as I can, staring at Samuel, hoping he’ll realize the danger.

Samuel shakes himself like a wet dog. He wipes his face as he rises. “And scene!”

There’s a fake smile on his face as he takes several bows, rotating away from me and toward the door. I clap, playing along.

“Clap your hands,” I whisper to Quinn as I usher him behind me. I reach over and tap Jenesis on the shoulder.

“Rise and clap for the champion.” She lifts her head, looks around, and then claps as she gets up.

Myndi tilts her head. Samuel squawks and waves his arms. Myndi squawks in a low pitch as she leaves.

“Thank you for attending the end of our performance. Go away now.” Samuel gives a dismissive wave to the green blobs, who slither out.

I rub my hand over my face. “Quick thinking.”

“Not really. I’ve explained a lot of my actions by saying that acting is how Earth fighters from my tribe learn to fight.” Samuel rubs the tattoo on the back of his hand. “Channeling you, I guess.”

“Yeah.” That was what I told him when he was young and didn’t want to fight. I told him the bullies were acting, and the fighting wasn’t real. Showed him action movies where someone fought to the death, and then another movie where the same actor was just fine. It was a well-crafted lie that kept my brother safe. One he believed for more years than he should have, probably.

Brydanz saunters in. “Ah, you’ve found each other. Not in the arena, as I hoped, but still!”

“Should you be here?” Samuel crosses his arms and stares at my abductor.

“I heard there was acting. Not many here know the meaning. So few on Phaeton have been to Earth.”

“The show ended. You can go.” Samuel waves him off. Unlike the blobs, Brydanz doesn’t move.

“I come on behalf of Myndi.”

“She was just here. Obviously she can show up on her own behalf.” Samuel says as he crosses his arms.

“Ah, but this is protocol. She wishes to issue a challenge, an offer to fight Attie the Earthling, a chance for him to be a champion.”

“He declines,” Samuel spits out.

Brydanz looks to me. “Do you decline the champion’s offer?”

“I have no reason to fight her.”

“Then if you are not victorious in your next battle in the arena, she will take your bonus trophy.” Brydanz gives one of his wicked, face-altering smiles as he backs out of the room.

Two stories (under 500 words) face off. You, the reader, decide which author is worthy of moving one step closer to a prize. Voting there is a good deed for the day! Please take the time to make a real difference. Please go to dlhammons.com to vote. Thank you.

]]>http://jlennidornerblog.what-are-they.com/2018/04/24/v-atozchallenge-victorious-fiction-sff/feed/24261U #AtoZChallenge Uncle #Fiction #SFF Blog All About It Challenge – Arthttp://jlennidornerblog.what-are-they.com/2018/04/23/u-atozchallenge-uncle-fiction-sff-blog-all-about-it-challenge-art/
http://jlennidornerblog.what-are-they.com/2018/04/23/u-atozchallenge-uncle-fiction-sff-blog-all-about-it-challenge-art/#commentsTue, 24 Apr 2018 03:36:04 +0000http://jlennidornerblog.what-are-they.com/?p=425726 parts of a Speculative Fiction story by J Lenni Dorner Jenesis and I pass the time by sparring. I hold back, at first, not wanting to hurt her. “Oww. Uncle!” “You said you are Quinn’s uncle. What does that mean?” Jenesis asks as she twists my arm. “Just… let go. You win. Are you …

Jenesis and I pass the time by sparring. I hold back, at first, not wanting to hurt her.

“Oww. Uncle!”

“You said you are Quinn’s uncle. What does that mean?” Jenesis asks as she twists my arm.

“Just… let go. You win. Are you sure you weren’t supposed to be a fighter?” I rub my shoulder.

She shakes her head. “I am a trophy. Not everything you face out there is human. And, unless you challenge a champion, you never know who you’ll face in the arena.”

“But they always know, don’t they. The champions. They can prepare for who they’ll fight. They’ve seen the battles. How would someone like me even know who the seven champions are, if I wanted to pick one to fight against?”

“You already know two. The more fights you win, the more likely that a champion will stop by.”

I shake my head. “It isn’t right. We’re locked in here, and they can do as they please. If I never meet them, I can’t decide to fight them. It isn’t as if I can invite them to dinner to figure out which one I’d like to fight.”

Jenesis raises an eyebrow. “Is that an Earth custom? Invite someone to dine with you before fighting to the death?”

“I… uhh… maybe.” On the one hand, she makes a good point. On the other hand, it does sound like something that could have happened in the history of the world.

“There would probably be poison in the food and drink, and the host would be immune to it.”

I turn toward the voice. I never heard the door open, never heard someone enter. Quinn comes bouncing in with the man. I hadn’t expected him to show up.

“Samuel.” My younger brother. We were so close once. Sammy Shadow.

“Hey, Art.”

“It’s Attie.” I cross my arms, fingers digging into my elbows. I don’t want to hit my brother, not in front of his son.

He looks around my quarters. “Yeah. I guess they don’t let you hang anything that might keep you calm. Certainly no images that lead to great conversation. No one here would care what emotions a painting is trying to convey. There’s no music or dance, either. We aren’t here for our minds or our culture.”

“No. We’re here to rip each other to pieces. Jenesis? Could you take Quinn to play in the corner?” I wish I had more rooms. I want to be as alone as possible with Samuel.

He lowers his head. “I wish they could see you dance. I wish they valued the art your body makes, that they could feel what I always felt when I saw you on stage.”

“I danced for her. My crowd has shrunk since she died. Until now, maybe. Seems rage is worth more than a Cossack dance.” My jaw trembles. I’ve missed dancing almost as I’ve missed my children. I hadn’t thought about that part of me, about my soul, since I’ve been here. Damn Samuel! He has always known how to break me.

“You didn’t send my son with a message to discuss your old nickname.” He rubs the tattoo on his hand as he states the obvious.

“I have to know how to get home. I’ve heard that champions can leave. You’re a champion, but you stay here.”

“That’s right.”

I uncross my arms and crack my knuckles. “Are you here because you were afraid to come home and face me? Is it your fault my wife and son are gone?”

Quinn touches my leg as he runs past. “Don’t yell at my dad!”

I watch him wrap around Samuel’s leg, hugging him. It looks exactly like the pose Danny and I are eternally striking in the picture I keep in my wallet. Tears stream down my face. I hear Samuel say something, but I can’t make it out.

Do you have a favorite work of art?

My current choice is by Jayne Pope. I have only found it on Pinterest, where it’s called “Summer Sunlight in Ixworth Forest.”
I’m drawn to the use of light and various greens. The geometric properties that make a surreal forest. It feels like an illusion and yet real.

Two stories (under 500 words) face off. You, the reader, decide which author is worthy of moving one step closer to a prize. Voting there is a good deed for the day! Please take the time to make a real difference. Please go to dlhammons.com to vote. Thank you.

]]>http://jlennidornerblog.what-are-they.com/2018/04/23/u-atozchallenge-uncle-fiction-sff-blog-all-about-it-challenge-art/feed/34257T #AtoZChallenge Teressa #Fiction #SFFhttp://jlennidornerblog.what-are-they.com/2018/04/22/t-atozchallenge-teressa-fiction-sff/
http://jlennidornerblog.what-are-they.com/2018/04/22/t-atozchallenge-teressa-fiction-sff/#commentsMon, 23 Apr 2018 03:38:27 +0000http://jlennidornerblog.what-are-they.com/?p=425526 parts of a Speculative Fiction story by J Lenni Dorner The number of people I want to save from this world keeps growing. “Sister?” Quinn nods. “Hang on,” I rub my temples. “My brother had been gone for four years on my last day on Earth. You’re older than four. How old is your …

The number of people I want to save from this world keeps growing. “Sister?”

Quinn nods.

“Hang on,” I rub my temples. “My brother had been gone for four years on my last day on Earth. You’re older than four. How old is your sister?”

“Teressa is my twin sister.”

I look at Jenesis. “I already told you not to measure time using surface world standards. Trophies grow to meet demands.”

“You’re living beings. Stop talking about yourselves like objects.” I roll over. Neither of them stops me from going to sleep. Of course not. They’re trained to be obedient. I hate the entire planet of Phaeton. They know what’s going on and they don’t stop it. They encourage it, they profit from it, but none of them stop to think about these trophies, these slaves.

It goes on back home, on Earth. I know about it. I’ve heard the stories. What have I ever done to stop it? I don’t even know where to start. Am I any better?

I war with myself as I drift off to sleep.

~~~

Once again, the food is gone when I wake up. Do I sleep that well, or do they drug us? The least of my worries.

“Quinn, you will go to training. If you can find your dad, tell him I need to speak to him.” I point to the tattoo on the back of my left hand. “Your dad has this same mark, yes?”

“Yes. He said it’s about family and home. He doesn’t like when people look at it.”

All things considered, I’m not surprised. “You tell him Attie needs a word with him. Tap on this shamrock here.”

I point out the one that represents myself. I’ve started at the one that represents my brother, the brother who I believed killed my wife and son. I’ve known it for the last four years, known it as sure as I know the stars in the sky. Seems I don’t know much these days.

Jenesis waits until Quinn leaves before she asks me about my brother. I don’t know what to tell her. I need to know if I should still hate him. If I still have the right to be angry.

“You look conflicted. Lenape Lifelong wrote a story about a turkey, wolf, and a turtle. They had wars within. Perhaps you should read that?”

“This is beyond the lessons of a children’s book.”

Have you ever done anything to stop or reduce human slavery or trafficking?

Two stories (under 500 words) face off. You, the reader, decide which author is worthy of moving one step closer to a prize. Voting there is a good deed for the day! Please take the time to make a real difference. Please go to dlhammons.com to vote. Thank you.

]]>http://jlennidornerblog.what-are-they.com/2018/04/22/t-atozchallenge-teressa-fiction-sff/feed/14255S #AtoZChallenge Sister #Fiction #SFFhttp://jlennidornerblog.what-are-they.com/2018/04/20/s-atozchallenge-sister-fiction-sff/
http://jlennidornerblog.what-are-they.com/2018/04/20/s-atozchallenge-sister-fiction-sff/#commentsFri, 20 Apr 2018 23:56:16 +0000http://jlennidornerblog.what-are-they.com/?p=424226 parts of a Speculative Fiction story by J Lenni Dorner After we all finish eating, we relax on the mat. I wonder what life would be like for Quinn if I were the sort of guy to use Jenesis sexually. She’s indicated more than once that trophies often exist that way. If I lose …

After we all finish eating, we relax on the mat. I wonder what life would be like for Quinn if I were the sort of guy to use Jenesis sexually. She’s indicated more than once that trophies often exist that way. If I lose a match, he could be passed on to someone else. What if…

I shutter. “Jenesis?”

“Yeah?”

“How do you know so much about Myndi?”

“I told you, my parents were champions. I was allowed to visit my mother. Not to eat her food or stay in her quarters, but I could visit. Myndi did not approve of my mother’s fondness for me.”

“Why couldn’t I see? When I was holding Brydanz by the neck, I went blind.”

Quinn and Jenesis answer in unison. “She has that effect.”

“How?”

“It’s part of her magic. Myndi can kill ten different ways with little effort, and twenty more when she’s trying.”

“Oh,” I gulp at the answer Jenesis gave. “But my brother is somehow also a champion?”

I look at Quinn. “Does he know I’m here?”

Quinn shrugs.

“There should be a way to tell him. I have so many questions. Most of all, I want to know if it really is his fault that my wife and son are dead.”

“I could ask him.” Quinn moves closer to Jenesis, resting his head on her arm.

“We’re locked in here,” I point out.

“Unless,” Jenesis plays with Quinn’s hair, “a young bonus trophy can be required to continue attending training classes. Most fighters don’t care. You could. Sending a bonus trophy to speak with a champion on behalf of a fighter is against the rules. But if Quinn happened to speak to his champion parent, it would be allowed, so long as the champion permitted it.”

“Dad jogs when the class is in session, which puts him right next to the classroom. Do you jog, Master?”

“It’s Uncle Attie, not Master.” I rub my sleep-heavy eyes. “What if my brother refuses to speak to his own son?”

Jenesis looks at me, silently communicating the answer. Death. I nod and look at Quinn.

“Dad likes me. He could only keep one of us, and my sister needed him more.”

Two stories (under 500 words) face off. You, the reader, decide which author is worthy of moving one step closer to a prize. Voting there is a good deed for the day! Please take the time to make a real difference. Please go to dlhammons.com to vote. Thank you.